


everything I should have said

by dilkirani



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, auditory hallucinations, season 5 premiere spoilers, zero plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilkirani/pseuds/dilkirani
Summary: "What she does fear, what causes an unbearable tightening in her chest, is the fraying of her memory. At night, when she has a moment to rest, she closes her eyes and can still hear Fitz murmuring into her ear, his words slurring and his brogue thickening with sleep and satisfaction. Assurances of love never sound as beautiful and sticky sweet when spoken by anyone else. But one day, she will wake to realize his voice in her head must be more imagination than recollection."





	everything I should have said

This is where all life began, Jemma thinks, as she stares out the window at rocks and stars and so much void. There’s no poetry to it for her, not anymore. She remembers days in the lab with Fitz, the way discovery lit up their faces until their delight reflected and bounced back, exhilaration in perpetual motion. Then, she had seen beauty in science. Now it’s nothing but a means to survive, fighting against an always impassive universe.

Missing Fitz has become an exhausting addiction. The absence of him winds itself through her bones, as familiar as the way he used to press his limbs along hers. They had promised, in the afterglow of sanguine kisses, that they wouldn’t let themselves be ripped apart again. And then they were. Again and again and now, finally, again.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” Jemma confesses to the space he should occupy, although everything around her remains inaudible. She and Daisy had killed Kasius, but his death hadn’t freed her from this silent world, and so far none of their solutions have worked. She’s not afraid she’ll never communicate again—she’s already created a sort of rudimentary sign language to use with the team, she’s gotten much better at reading lips, and her perpetual fatigue is currently winning out over the energy required to add this to her list of terrors.

What she does fear, what causes an unbearable tightening in her chest, is the fraying of her memory. At night, when she has a moment to rest, she closes her eyes and can still hear Fitz murmuring into her ear, his words slurring and his brogue thickening with sleep and satisfaction. Assurances of love never sound as beautiful and sticky sweet when spoken by anyone else. But one day, she will wake to realize his voice must be more imagination than recollection.

Because she _has_ lost him. Whenever they are, exactly, Fitz is not. He lived his life—and she hopes, more than anything, that it was a good one—and now he’s gone. Jemma clings to his voice in her head, prays she can keep it safe from the encroaching Sheffield pronunciations. She was stolen from her home without even a photograph of him; this is all she has left.

++

“Jemma,” he whispers, and she moans, burying her head further into the pillow. Her entire body burns from the previous day’s labor, and all she wants is a few more minutes of sleep.

“I know,” he laughs. “I don’t want to wake up either, but Daisy will be by soon.”

She stills, her lungs constricting. He’s so close, he must be, but she can’t feel the warmth of his body next to hers.

“Fitz?” she asks, too afraid to turn over. His name feels different falling off her lips than any other word. She’d never noticed that before.  

“I’m here, love,” he says. Her skin prickles, like he’s placed the softest kiss to her forehead. “But you need to get up.”

She knows it’s not real. His voice is as clear as it’s ever been, but she can’t hear anything else—not the fan in the corner or heavy boots in the hallway. Not the rustle of blankets as she pushes them back. But when she finally looks and can’t see even an indentation on her bed, the ghost of where he should have been, something cracks hard inside her.

She’s almost grateful she can’t hear her own wracking sobs. She feels deeply ashamed and so very alone. She realizes she would give anything to see him again. Even if it’s for the last time. Even if he’s nothing more than a hallucination.

“Jemma,” he soothes, and she covers her ears with her hands, shaking uncontrollably. She’s not entirely sure why she’s attempting to block his voice, when it’s the only thing she truly aches to hear.

“You’re not really Fitz,” she cries. “Please go away.”

The barest of vibrations courses through her, like a gentle massage. Daisy’s way of knocking, now that Jemma can’t hear anything.

“You were right,” she marvels. Apparently he’s listened to her begging, because he doesn’t respond.

++

“Come back. I didn’t mean it,” she whispers. Or, she thinks she whispers. She’s trying to remember the way she changed her inflections, her tone, the volume of her voice. After all this time, it should be instinctual, but she finds herself second-guessing everything, trying to read in the eyes of others whether she has spoken too loudly.

She supposes here, in the privacy of her room, it doesn’t really matter.

Silence laps over her, the same as always. She closes her eyes and stretches a hand out across the bed, imagines she can feel his warm skin beneath her fingers.

“What would we talk about first?” she asks. “I’d want to know all about what you’ve been doing, of course. I hope you’re remembering to eat. That’s silly, you _always_ remember to eat. Just maybe have something with actual nutrients now and then. I hope you’re not...I mean, I’m sure you’re still struggling with what happened in the Framework. But I hope you’re coming to terms. I know you’ll be furious about this whole Kasius situation, but I’m sure together we can figure out a solution.”

Jemma turns to where he should be, can almost see his bright, blue eyes. She remembers exactly how he held her, the last time they spent the night together. She doesn’t remember what they talked about, and she hates herself for it. “It’s okay if we don’t, though,” she tells him. “Psychically linked and all that, right?”

There’s no answer. Jemma sniffles, wiping a hand across her eyes, but more tears stubbornly gather. “I know you’re not alive,” she says. “If you stayed on Earth then by now you’re...I _know_. But I miss you so much. I should never have...please, come back.”

The room is inky dark, and the silent vacuum of death hovering outside her window reminds her of the bottom of the ocean. What will happen, she wonders, if they save humanity? Could he be there to welcome her home? Or will saving the world mean losing the best part of it?

“Let’s talk about getting married,” Fitz says. “Just this once, let’s forget about saving humanity and talk about ourselves first.”

She laughs.

++

He arrives looking like no Fitz she’d ever imagined. But then again, she supposes she must look nothing like he’d ever imagined. If she could hear, she knows everything else would have faded out as soon as she saw him storming in like he owned the place. Her heart would have stopped, the cacophony of post-apocalyptic life reduced to a faint buzzing in the background. It would have been only him—only Fitz, his eyes meeting hers, the scratch of his stubble against her cheek, the feel of his heart beating beneath her palm.

This is exactly how it is anyway.

His arms are an unbreakable promise around her, almost painfully tight. His breath puffs the air by her ear, and she knows he’s saying her name over and over like a supplication.

Jemma pulls back to look at him. Tears drip down his cheeks and the relief in his eyes can’t quite mask everything he must have been through. But he saved her world, and she has the power to save his.  

“Marry me, Fitz,” she says, savoring how the words taste on her lips for the very first time.

She doesn’t need to hear his response, because it’s just his mouth crushing against hers, the vibrations of his _yes_ filling her lungs.


End file.
